


Fated Melody

by JusKIdding



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Gen, Implied Relationships, Pistanthrophobia MC, Story start Mid-May, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusKIdding/pseuds/JusKIdding
Summary: "Corruption has long integrated itself into the society - what can we teenagers do? Plan a riot? Protest? The Phantom Thieves of Hearts are false hopes, they cannot - and won't fix every thing!" Crimson hues met dark brown eyes, which went soft after hearing her true thoughts.





	1. Chapter 1

**_20XX/05/23 (Thur)_ **

It was near midnight when a familiar announcement of her stop woke her from a nap, synching with her vibrating smartphone in her hidden pocket as it interrupted a playing jazz tune. “Shinjuku, next stop Shinjuku.”

She blinked sleep out of her eyes, removed a pair of red headphones, which had seen better times, and stared at the passing blur of the underground, its yellow and orange light winking in and out of their existence. Despite multiple small windows of time, she observed the reflection of herself of a window, a poor imitation of a mirror.

She wore a simple night dress, fitting for a classy restaurant. Her black hair was done in a low side ponytail that fell over her right shoulder. A small amount of makeup was applied, allowing her to look slightly older than her actual age – she smirked – just enough to fool the authorities of Shinjuku.

Unfortunately, they can’t do a single thing about the fatigue that seemed to persist.

She let out a soft whine at that line of thought before checking her wristwatch, noting the time with a bitter smile. Her hands automatically reached for her violin case like a moth to the flames, and clutched it protectively.

She sighed tiredly, but her visible crimson eye burned with anger and hatred towards her boss. No matter how many times she silently chided herself, she found herself _wishing_ , _hoping_ like an idiot.

The day her boss released her on a pseudo graveyard shift was the day when the sun decided to rise from the west.

To make matters worse, she has school the following morning. Given her luck, the teachers would pick on her for sleeping despite her excellent grades on so many pointless exams.

She felt her eyes twitched at the probable scenario, muttering profanities against her boss, her already soured mood rapidly deteriorate into bitter anger as the next thought came to mind.

As a bonus, she _will_ not be getting a _bonus_ for working overtime – she scoffed – the _irony_. She has half a mind to quit, but always hesitated. After all, it was the only part time job she has to display her musical skills, even if the audience weren’t optimistic.

Plus, if her information she currently has was true, the Okumura Foods was the greater evil when compared to _this_ job.

She placed a hand on her forehead, pushing the streaked red bangs covering her right eye, letting her mind wander as her fingers drummed the violin cover in a simple beat.

Finally, the train slowed and pulled into a stop, her body swaying with the motion. With a deep breath, she stood up gracefully with a false, but sweet smile. In a few seconds, she walked through the opened doors. The only reminder of her presence was her short heels clicking noisily against the pavements throughout the empty station, and it too, faded into nothing as time passed.

~.*.~

When she arrived at her workplace, she hid her surprise behind a practiced, cool mask. There were a few customers sitting in their respective booths, flirting or just chatting with their assigned hosts and hostess who lavished their customers with attention and flowing wine or beer.

Ignoring their laughter and conversations, she briskly walked past them to a stage with lousy lighting where an impromptu band of two were playing. They gave each other a nod of acknowledgement before switching up the tune to prepare for her entrance. They do not need to know each other’s name or force pointless niceties for the sake of being _polite_.

On the stage, skill is everything. Names and titles are irrelevant.

The stage was away from attracting the main attention of customers, except for a few booths near a corner where one of the hidden speakers would sing their sinful melody or in some cases, _her_ melody.

“Ah…crap…” groaned the violinist when she spotted her boss sitting in one of the booths, huffing his expensive cigars away. He was an ill-tempered, bald man wearing a crisp suit, with a potbelly more obvious than his hypocrisy view. Even from afar, she could tell he was scanning his available female employees with shameless lust.

The violinist felt a chill running down her spine when those eyes settled on her – on her freaking body. She had to swallow the urge to retch at his face or _kill_ him.

He is an easy target.

She bit her tongue. The day her wrath will rain down on him…was near.

He would pay for his crimes, for _upsetting_ the balance of the world of shadows.

 _Tolerate Azami Hashimoto, tolerate!_ _You don’t need to dirty your hands tonight._

With a picture perfect of decorum, she stepped onto the stage and prepared herself.

“For my mother…” whispered Azami as she closed her eyes.

With a sense shut off, she began to play in tune with the symphony of music, her melody captured by a sole microphone on stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Aqua from dillongoo discord server for the book cover! The art looks freaking fantastic. To view, look at the link below...  
> https://imgur.com/R0DmzMB


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbetaed. I apologize for any mistakes made here. I appreciate feedbacks! Thank you!

**_20XX/05/24 (Fri)_ **

 “I swear, you’re a ball of  _trouble!_ ” Roared her uncle almost immediately when Azami Hashimoto opened the door to her apartment, startled by his appearance right near the entrance.

Her uncle was red-faced with rage, his mouth twisted into a disgusting frown, still clad in his hospital uniform. Strips of grey were evident in his unkempt brown hair from stress of his workplace.

Time has not been kind to her uncle. Despite his age, he looked _ancient_.

They locked eyes, and Azami was the first one to look away when she kicked her short heels shoes into a mess of a rack. She took a little solace in her act of defiance when they struck the wooden rack with a force enough to rattle it.

Despite trembling from exhaustion, she stepped into her apartment with a practiced smile. She was used to playing almost endlessly without much reprieve.

As much as she wanted to sleep, she has to deal with the ignorance and arrogance of a _Hashimoto_ family member.

“Are you listening?!” The buffoon demanded her attention with a raised voice.

She must not snap. There was nothing to be gained from acting solely on emotions.

She nodded, turning to face him.

“My apology,  _sir,_  can we have this conversation later?” Venom just oozed out from a single word.

It was ineffective against a buffoon. An idiot buffoon.

“I care about your wellbeing more than you thought,” said the buffoon smugly.

Immediately, Azami tuned him out.

Like hell he cared about her!

Where was he for the first 13 years of her life?

He doesn’t even feed her, pay her mother’s hospital bills and the rent.

And what can she do?

Be the exploited musician and an obedient, stupid, sweet niece he knew.

Her replies were automatic, chuckling at the right timings to placate the buffoon, and ideally interrupting his same grand speech.  
“Of course you do, sir.”  
“Yes sir.”  
“You must be tired from your work, please take a rest, sir.”

As minutes turned into an hour, the buffoon finally left for his room, but not quietly. He stomped the unfortunate polished wooden floor like a child throwing a tantrum.

She sighed, and collapsed onto the nearest sofa and gave in to exhaustion.

~.*.~

Azami let out a yawn on her walk to her school, tuning out chatters of her peers around her. Some were still going on with the Phantom Thieves of Heart craze, which in her opinion, were somewhat questionable.

Especially their unknown methods.

Her head pounded, making her grimace.

She just needs to endure for another two days.  _Just two goddamn days._

Apparently she must have tempted Fate when a shadow was cast over her.

And felt something in her grip as the shadow left. Azami felt her ire rise when she spotted her messenger.

It was another faceless person, another victim of her uncle’s blackmails ever-growing list.

And one most likely to have his or her life already in splinters – she frowned. She has no pity nor sympathy for them.

Why should she when none answered her desperate pleas  _that_  day?

She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself as she entered the school grounds.

_‘You damn devil!’_  An old hag had screamed with eyes of rage.  
_‘That child will have no future if she enters the foster home system – she has an uncle who is willing to take her in.’_  A faceless attorney had argued.

_‘They know_  nothing! _'_  Azami almost spat those words out loud.

_‘What a pretty voice... But no one hears your cries.’_  A part of her whispered almost mockingly.

_Mother!_

At a corner of her vision, she saw her child spectre raising a finger at her.

For a few moments, it was just her and her child self. Even from a far distance, Azami could tell  _it_  was smiling gleefully.

_‘Fallen...’_  mouthed the spectre.

In a flash of blue, her spectre disappeared.

~.*.~

Azami kept up a studious façade.

And it failed.

Miserably.

Anyone with a pair of working eyes can see the dark gloom surrounding the frustrated teenager. Her owl-like stare was their reward if they denied it, thus the avoidance of eye contact.

Unfortunately, as part of human’s nature, they threw curious looks when they  _thought_  she wasn’t paying attention.

She kept her head down, ignoring their judgmental looks with a hint of curiosity dancing in their eyes. Her left hand fiddled with the unrolled and read message, brows furrowed as she thought long and hard. For some reason, she found herself staring at a blank wall like it was the most interesting happening in this world.

Today, she was to meet with someone in a public area. A station this time.

Collect a package, deposit it in another area. Simple.

What happens after that was just her going back to her  _everyday life_. That shattered, broken pieces of what society dubbed as  _everyday life_  – living just for the sake of living.

Continue hating, smile to hide – hide  _everything_.

Laugh, throw shy gestures, misdirect.

Play music, pretend to see nothing.

Pretend she saw nothing.

Pretend she never heard anything.

Society doesn’t want her bad side. They want the good side.

The sweet child who says yes.

The sweet child who can play a violin like it was singing a lullaby to them.

“Hashimoto!” A blade-like voice cut through the frigid silence.

“Yes, sensei?” She let out a soft reply, finally turning her gaze to the teacher and the blackboard behind him.

“What is the answer for Question 3?”

A glance to the blackboard, and Azami recited the blanks of the poem without missing a beat. “Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player. That struts and frets his hour upon the stage. And then is heard no more.”

Two claps from her teacher, a young man with a pair of glasses. “Good. I clearly didn’t expect you to be quite a poet.”

Azami reflexively put on a smile as snickers in her classroom came and went like the wind. Words that came out of his loose lips were complaints and compliments – a rude reminder that the mindset of a  _society_  is a poison to youths.

He isn’t aware of a poison that is choking him, the youths, the children.

And Azami can’t blame him. The poison is too well hidden, subtle, and slow acting.

It was only when they were older, an age far too late, trapped by the claws of society’s demands – that maybe, they will realize and curse their own foolishness for  _everything_.

The bell rang, signalling the end of a lesson.

If they had bothered to look at her closely before rushing for their recess, they would have noticed the cracks of her smile.

~.*.~

It was late in the evening.

The station was packed with people, and no one bothered giving her a second glance. As long as she doesn’t block their path, no attention will be drawn into her.

Azami took a sip from her fizzy drink, looking at the sea of crowd and ignored the train announcements that rang almost every minute.

Her clothes were casual in style. A red frilly blouse, and a pair of faded jeans. To complete the look of an ordinary teenager was a pair of black sneakers with white stripes on its sides.

Her school bag was still slung over her shoulder, and her hair was mostly covered by a black cap.

“You’re early,” a male voice growled on the other end of the vending machine.

Azami nodded, shaking her drink before tipping it over.

Nothing.

She contemplated about buying another drink, but her contact spoke, forcing her to ignore her want for a second fizzy drink.

“...Kid, you didn’t need to come here today.”

Azami frowned. If she didn’t need to come here today, then…

Her eyes widened.

_Shit._

She swore under her breath. Was her contact caught by the authorities?

The  _deliverers_  aren’t stupid enough to get caught without leaving a message, writing or no writing. There was always an  _observer_  for the transaction and act as a lookout for any authorities.

A direct communication with an observer?

It is unheard of.

She closed her crimson eyes and sighed before biting her bottom lip.

Not enough information to have a concrete plan or a good grasp of her current situation.

Which can only be one thing.

_She had been compromised._

Her eyes snapped open and she threw her empty can to the top of the vending machine.

“H-huh?!” Yelped the voice.

She ran to the crowd, elbowing her way to the exit as best as she could while her pursuer – _pursuers_  – corrected Azami when she caught a glimpse of three uniformed policemen, apologizing as they tried to move against the crowd and half-shouting for her to stop. 

Damn, are they everywhere?

Azami whipped out her rail pass to another station and jumped off a flight of stairs, ignoring gasps of surprise.

Touch. Pass the barrier. And be squeezed by the crowd for one ride at least.

Her grip on her school bag tightened. She can’t – shouldn’t let her guard down again. Too risky.

Can’t rely on anyone.

There is no one to rely on.

No one to listen to her cries.

She barely made it in. Just as the doors closed, she saw her pursuers ran down with the nearest had an arm out, screaming for the door to be held. Everyone on her train paid them no heed, except to stare blankly at them.

It was a joke. Did they thought _anyone_ would spare them time?

She gave them a sweet smile and watched coolly when the hand almost got clipped by the doors. Many mirrored an expression of amusement of varying degrees, and some even offered them a half-hearted apologetic wave before the train picked up speed.

The society was cruel. It was no secret the audience were amused by the sight of a policeman recoiled from a possible injury. It brightened a little in a monotonous life of a normal citizen of Japan as long their life wasn’t directly involved.

The whole compartment reeked of sweat. The air was stuffy, warm from a combination of people pressing against the other and chatters from the more energetic teenagers.

It was no surprise she came out frazzled into the cloudy sky.

And wandered into a foreign street.

“This is... Ah shit. Why did I forget to check the map?” She muttered into her palm and sighed. “Stupid me.”

The street was quiet, but its atmosphere wasn’t threatening like the late nights of Shibuya. A few old people walked around, giving her a wave before moving on.

She had to blink. The neighbourhood is friendly, only slightly easing the pit of dread.

_Relax_  – breathe deeply, exhale deeply.

“Are you new here?” A rather smooth, yet unfriendly voice asked, making Azami jumped. Immediately she turned around...

Pink was the first thing she registered.

She stepped back and looked up, her expression neutral.

Facing back was a middle-aged man with a goatee that she rarely saw in reality. The colour _pink_ was a collared shirt, worn over by a pristine white coat. With a pair of matching trousers, the man looked like he would fit right into a bar. Though he wore an out-of-style glasses, his confidence made them seem to be in style. In his hands were heavy bags – groceries?

“Are you new here?” He questioned again, his tone slightly gentler though obviously disinterested.

Azami nodded.

He sighed. “I feel bad leaving you here,” He hmmed a few times and sighed. “Sorry, you just remind me of my daughter.”

The wary teenager tilted her head, a hand holding the tip of her cap. Silence is her best bet now.

“Never mind that. Well, it was nice chatting with you.”

They bowed. He had half-turned when he suddenly craned his neck to look at her. “Kid, if you ever drop by Leblanc, I’ll give you my special blend.” He chuckled.  “Unless you’re not a coffee person.” He added as an afterthought.

Intrigued, a corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “Leblanc?”

“You will know it once you find it.”

She smiled – inquiring more would make her first impression bad or too eager – and bowed as he left.

Faking eagerness is one thing. Being too nosy is another.

_Can’t trust him._

No matter how nice a person is, it is stupid and naive of her to open her heart.

She stifled a yawn and toured around the neighbourhood herself. Too many patrol officers for her liking, but none of them decided to take her for questioning.

Still, she can’t help but look over her shoulder as they passed by.

_‘To live a life of mistrust...’_  A voice eerily similar to her own echoed.  _‘Slowly...burn from your own wrath and despair...’_

_‘Fallen...’_

The pit of dread grew stronger. Her head pounded.

She suddenly felt out of breath as if the wind was knocked out of her.

For one moment, Azami thought she was hallucinating.

In front of her was her child self in a summer dress. Its molten gold eyes were teary, but with anger and desperation. Its hair was tied up with a butterfly-shape pin, dancing with an invisible breeze in its constraints.

Almond shaped eyes with soft features met its reflection, the _older_ Azami. Its smile was distorted enough to send chills down Azami’s spine.

She recognized  _that_  smile despite its distortion.

A smile she had long forgotten to make.

That smile suddenly became twisted with malice.

It raised its hand and pointed to Azami.

_“Mementos.”_  It spoke aloud.

**“Location found. Begin navigation.”**

The robotic voice was all Azami Hashimoto registered before the world shifted and warped.


	3. Chapter 3

Azami retched her lunch the moment the world she never knew shifted back into focus. Though still feeling ill, in one quick movement, she wiped her mouth with a disposable tissue. Crimson hues stared at her shaky hands before she looked up from the cracked linoleum flooring.

The sour taste in her mouth was unwelcome. But more than that, was the atmosphere of this...place.

A desolate copycat of Shibuya station. Wind howled and roared freely with power, threatening to devour her whole. She felt the whole place was watching her movement as if it was sentiment. Unless it was her imagination, the walls which were latched with web-like designs pulsed almost every passing second.

She gave her surrounding a quick look over, trying to be as calm as possible. She can’t afford to panic.

Nothing good came from panic.

She knew it firsthand.

She  _suffered_  for it. 

There were stairs leading both up and down – her life relied on her only choice – or what she assumed was a choice.

Maybe if she waited for help – no. It will take too long.

Too many variables to act properly.

"Where the hell am I anyway?!" Yelled Azami as she massaged her temple and readjusted her cap with practiced motion.

Predictably, no one answered her.

She cursed under her breath, slowly approaching the stairs leading up. By logic, going up should be the path to exit.

She stared at the darkness, and the void stared back.

Steeling her nerves, she reached for the railings and gripped them.

As much as she wanted to believe she was dreaming, the sour taste persisted, and the coolness of the railing bit her skin.

Her footsteps were quiet – a force of habit. She winced each time a footstep of hers became slightly louder than it should be, and shook her head.

How can she deny her senses? She lived on them to survive even if it is by the grit of her teeth. All that matters is she survives, to spite her uncle and the toxic society.

Knowing her uncle is just after her inheritance, and actively trying to  _rebrand_  himself as a good person – her living...even if it’s an empty life.

It’s enough.

A roar of a  _beast_  cut her thinking, almost make her miss a step. She isn’t sure of her feelings to the noise. On one hand, it grounded her, on the other, she just wanted it to be a dream.

And by a long shot, be a trigger for her to awaken from this insane nightmare.

She chuckled, aware of her paradox of wants.

“I am a damn fool.” She muttered sardonically.

~.*.~

_Hide._

She obeyed her instinct without a second thought. By the time she registered she was hidden in the shadows of a station platform, she had identified her potential obstacles.

Slimy, mud-like humanoids.

They waved their feebly around as they walked. A few stood in place, staring at nothing.

Unless her eyes are playing tricks, their eyes were not just a  _single_  pair – they were countless, sickening to watch as they looked at her hiding spot.

Soon their gazes morphed into...

They looked similar to  _those_  days.

Her body went tensed in a split second – memories of a past she wished to forget haunted her.

~.*.~

Azami remembered a group of nurses ushering her to a private room, looking sombre. The sterilized smell of medicine was in the air, their footsteps echoed in the hallway – hers the oddity among order.

She remembered seeing white with a dash of red, and then some mutterings, looks of pity as she met their gaze with her own.

The gold trophy she had won earlier from her competition gleamed weakly under the fluorescent lights. A familiar, comforting weight of her violin case over her shoulder.

One sentence was spoken when she sat down on a chair.

 _‘Your mother...’_  Azami remembered how a kind looking nurse struggled to break the news to a child who had no knowledge of the possibility of death.  _‘She may never wake up.’_

Her world shattered into little pieces by events spiralling out of control.

First, she was betrayed by her own grandmother. It was the last conversation with her grandmother.

_Grandma, when is mom coming back?_

All of the sudden, her vision went red from pain.

Her eyes had widened from fright and shock, a hand nursing an angry red mark on her cheek – why is her grandma angry?

_‘You damn devil!’_

Second, by law.

_‘That child will have no future if she enters the foster home system – she has an uncle who is willing to take her in.’_

_Mom is still alive!_  
_Mom is still alive!_  
_Mom is still alive!_  
**She is alive!**  
_Pl-please! Don’t me away from my mother!_

Third, by her relatives.

_‘Hello, Azami-kun. Today we’ll be taking care of you.’_

_Umm... Thank you for taking me in, uncle and aunty!_

_‘Touma-kun, meet Azami, your cousin. Be nice to her.’_

_‘He’s nothing when compared to you. Why do you have to be_  excellent  _in everything? Can you at least...guide him?’_

_I’ll help!_

_‘You_  dare  _sabotaged my son?! How could you?!’_

_Aunty! I didn’t- He’s lying!_

Azami protested, tried to show her aunty the truth. Her son’s results are hers. Was it that difficult to differentiate between their writings?

His writings were more of chicken scratches than anything!

_‘I should listen to my ma. You're a damn devil.’_

Fourth, by society.

 _‘I heard her mother killed herself because of her.’_  
_‘She’s a reincarnated devil.’_  
_‘So...can you summon your minions from the underworld?’_  
_‘Ah? Her? She's useful for grades. Other than that? She's a wonderful scapegoat for us if_ anything _goes wrong.’_

Azami cried, pleaded for justice, for help.  
.  
.  
.

**Not one soul came.**

~.*.~

Shaking with fury, she glared at her obstacles, their gaze now away from her hiding spot. In her mind, they held faces of the public – faceless, phantom voices rang in her ears like pests.

She will survive – a pact she had sworn to, to her mother and for herself.

She took note of her terrain with a grim expression.

No matter how experienced she was, walking silently on the rocky ground of the subway was too tricky to even attempt. Plus – she stared at her sneakers – her shoes aren’t suitable for this terrain.

Mentally checking off stealth of her list and she thought of her less than favourable options.

She tapped her schoolbag lightly, staring ahead. Her smartphone was off the moment she was out of school. She had made sure of it.

Even if she received a signal here…

No,  _that_  was not an option. She should save the battery for flashlight.

She frowned, feeling she had forgotten something important, but she pushed it away.

“ _Focus._ ” Berated Azami.

Acting recklessly will cost her life – and her pride.

She closed her eyes in defeat and took a deep breath. Her other option was her last resort and her best bet.

Unknown to Azami, she was smirking wickedly.

She exhaled and opened her crimson hues, flickering to golden for a few moments. During those moments, she saw a faint trail of light on the path before it faded to nothing.

Then, she ran, dimly hearing their groans and pathetic chase. All she could do was run. Locked areas flitted her vision like a dream she can’t place.

As expected, the area was huge enough for her to maneuver – a few times she tripped, but caught herself, knees and hands scraped, bleeding, but adrenaline was running high.

Somewhere along the way, she had lost her cap, her hair dancing freely, sometimes obscuring her vision.

Despite all that, dead ends were nothing to her.

It was to live or to die in this desolate place.

Sweat beaded down her face, her blouse clung to her like a second skin. Against all odds, her schoolbag was still with her.

“THERE!” She shouted when she spotted a similar looking station platform. Hastily climbing up the platform with renewed vigour, she glanced back and had to swallow her nausea.

A huge lump of slime had gathered, their limbs reaching out as one, groaning meaninglessly, their many eyes seemed to gleam as they met hers. An impossible long limb tried to wrap itself to her.

Any normal person would be stunned by sight, but her reflexes saved her.

She climbed – and climbed until her feet carried her to a new place.

Blank eyes stared at the current hell. It was no different from the hellhole she had escaped.

Rinse and repeat.

_Run. Dodge. Faster. Survive. Survive. Run. Live. Dodge! Live. Live. Live!_

Then, there was silence.

_Silence?_

Tired, but wary eyes glanced around the new area – a bus stop?

No more groans. No more eyes to be seen and  _seeing_.

Was she in a safe zone?

She dared to hope.

Like all living beings after a strenuous activity, exhaustion paid back in full force.

Red, black and yellow spots danced at the edges of her vision like fairy lights. Her head felt light, her body heavy.

She collapsed to her knees like a puppet whose strings were cut, breathing heavily. Every muscle screamed from its harsh punishment as adrenaline wore off. Every open wound bled and stung.

It was a good sign. That meant she  _is_  alive.

Her parched throat constricted for a moment.

_Water._

Shaky hands reached for her bag, and pulled out a plastic water bottle.

Through her fatigue, she wrestled the cap of her water bottle – a quiet cry of relief when it popped off – and drank greedily.

Emptied. Discarded like it was fated to be.

She forced herself to crawl to the bus station, and hopefully settle on its seats.

Her progress was slow. Too slow.

Multicolour spots became more prominent in her futile effort – her body protested.

Azami cannot muster enough strength to even yell from frustration and pain.

What felt like hours was actually minutes of struggle to stay awake and pathetic attempts to move.

Distance stretched between her and the station, becoming another eternity.

Eventually she felt numb, her eyelids closed. The last feeling she remembered was the coolness of the floor against her exposed skin.

~.*.~

_The colour black flooded her sight, with the ocean waves singing symphonies._

_Drifting, wandering, only relying by a gentle push of a current to move._

_Here, she felt calm._

_And bored._

_The feeling of loneliness stung and bit worse in this dull landscape._

_She had no idea where she was – surprisingly the amount of shit she has given to_  this  _situation was a total zero._

_She had accepted it as it is. It was as if she had been here a million times._

_Maybe this is a_  déjà vu?

_‘Yo!’ A familiar voice chirped – a flash of yellow was all she registered. A soft material tickling her neck._

_‘Ya’ don’t mind having_ death _accompanying you?’_

_She tried to stifle her laugh, but ended up in a fit of giggles. Her guard was down the moment the youthful voice spoke. So many parts were fighting against the other, giving her a massive headache._

_Her mind said:_  Don’t fall for it.

_Her heart sighed in relief._

_Experience told her:_  Appearance is a lie. A facade to their rotten core.

 _Her instinct whispered:_   **Be careful.**

_The giggles stopped._

_Azami listened to her instinct and locked her crying heart. The rest lingered with a unanimous agreement, echoing her instinct’s one line._

_‘Friend?’ The youth sounded miserable as if he sensed her wariness._

_Time passed in silence. The soft material brushed her chin as its owner moved somewhere._

_She could imagine him sulking, but his words changed that image._

_‘I’m sorry, I... I wish we can be normal friends. No more personas. No more fate dictating our end. You deserve a better life. You earned it. Our contract is done.’_

Regrets?

_‘I don’t understand a single thing you’re talking about.’ Azami spoke slowly – the youth winced._

_‘Can you see me?’_

_Azami laughed with fake mirth._

_‘I can only see black. Yellow when whatever attire you’re wearing flashed before my sight. I can hear the ocean and your voice and myself. My touch is dull, I can only feel my face.’_

_‘Who are you and what are we? Where am I?’ Continued Azami, tinged with boredom and exhaustion._

_Her mind, experience and instinct muttered the questions like a broken record:_  Who are you and what are we? Where am I?

 _Her heart screamed between the questions:_  Stop it. He’s a friend!

_‘A poor shadow of your companion of our lonely period.’ The youth spoke with a melancholy and resigned conviction._

_It was just a moment, she felt heartache – a sensation she tried to close off._

_The embers of compassion in Azami burned a little brighter, but was quickly snuffed out by instinct._

_Then, mind spoke:_  Emotions brought her pain.

 _Experience continued:_  A weakness her enemies can exploit.

 _Instinct growled:_   **Compassion has no place in us! No one heard us. No one bothered to help!**

 **Trust no one but ourselves.**   _Instinct, experience and mind growled as one._

_Azami was deathly calm, anger simmering beneath the mask. ‘So you...heard me. The whole time.’ Her voice gradually reduced into a whisper with each word._

_‘Yes.’ His voice shook, on the verge of crying. ‘I can only watch. But this time I can at least help.’_

_‘And you. You. You. You. Fucking. Didn’t. Help. Until_  now? _’_

_‘I know I am being selfish. I have no excuses. Friend.’_

_Azami was speechless, her building rage dissolved in a matter of seconds._

_For years, no one admitted their faults to her and always blamed her. She was used as a scapegoat over the years – so-called friends in one second, and the next second a knife to her back whenever something went wrong._

_Nonsensical to whimsical blames._

_Their voices drowned her’s. No one bothered to know her – they believe in the never-ending rumour mills._

_She had lost count of the number of times she succumbed to despair. Just shutting down, seeing and unseeing. Too many lines blurred beyond recognition._

_Only operating based on instincts and sometimes with experience and mind._

_When was the last time she truly smiled as it is instead of a mask?_

_She tried to face the direction of the youth’s voice, but she can’t see, she can’t navigate her way in this inky darkness, the tide was against her. Knowing the youth was near her was frustrating – the yearning for knowledge beckoned, to at least meet_ him _._

_‘You cannot escape Mementos without being true.’ The youth paused, allowing her to digest his cryptic words. ‘Look within yourself.’_

_Then, his presence was gone._

_Azami fought an urge to strangle the youth. And that was his help? His words?!_

_She sighed, biting back a curse – his words were her first, and maybe the only clue._

_Her mind, instinct and experience whispered:_ Aren’t we enough?

_‘It should be enough,’ she spoke aloud, more to herself – society despise weakness._

_Her heart which had long been quiet suddenly sneered, breaking out of its complex locked chest:_   **Liar.**

 _Experience muttered:_ A necessity.

 _Mind snarled:_ A requirement.

 _Instinct laughed before it spoke with contempt:_ **An oath was sworn. To lie.**

_For the first time in years, instinct and heart joined forces as they uttered a single sentence._

**Shall we test the liar we are part of?**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by a fellow friend. Thank you!
> 
> P.S. Feedbacks are much appreciated.


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